


Darkness series

by flugantamuso



Category: Weiss Kreuz
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 03:06:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flugantamuso/pseuds/flugantamuso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crawford is little by little taking control, and Aya can't seem to do anything about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Darkness Take Thee

The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he didn’t exist.

Bradley Crawford lay in the darkness, his Weiss kitten curled by his side.

Disaster had been averted, the world had been saved from the grip of a vengeful spirit. A peace had been forged between two rival groups, difficult, but ultimately successful. The reformed Crawford was a weapon that Kritiker could not afford to pass up.

He closed his eyes and saw visions of glory, power crackling in his fingertips, familiar faces lying subdued at his feet. His lover stirred in sleep and Crawford smiled


	2. The Devil Unveiled, part one

"Join me, become a part of what shapes the future."

Aya snorted. "You’re not leaving me much of a choice, are you? I’m either your consort or your slave."

"Nonsense," Crawford’s eyes glittered, "You _are _going to join me in the future, making you a slave would be couterproductive to that goal, inevitable though it is."

Aya said nothing.

It was true that he wasn’t a slave. No one forced him to do anything, but he could find no way to leave, certainly not with a telepath and a telekinetic dogging his steps. Farfarello was kept away from him, for whose sake Aya could only guess.

He could have killed the servants, who scurried around like so many cockroaches, but their scared eyes and lowered heads stopped him. They were as much prisoners here as he was.

Finally, one day at breakfast, Crawford asked him what his decision was. It reminded Aya of an old fairy tale, a beast asking a fair maiden for her hand in marriage. But he was not a fair maiden, and what Crawford was asking for was a far more dangerous thing than marriage to a beast.

A negative reply would land him exactly where he was, wandering the halls by day, in Crawford’s bed at night, a positive reply . . .

Crawford was fully capable of lying, Aya _knew_ this, but whether or not there had been visions of Aya at Crawford’s side was rapidly becoming unimportant.


	3. The Devil Unveiled, part two

Aya never would have slept with Crawford of his initiative. He never would have _approached _Crawford of his own initiative. He’d found it hard to hate the man after the incident on the island where Schwartz fought alongside Weiss Kreuz to overcome their former masters, but lust and attraction were vague and unimportant issues, the disbanded Schwartz even more so. Life was good, if somewhat strange. He had a living, healthy, loveable sister, teamates whom he was fond of even if he didn’t show it, and a steady job, two of them in fact, even if the second did make him uneasy once in a while. Actually though, his first job tended to make him uneasy too, too many fangirls, and all of them wanting his attention.

And then there was Crawford, who also wanted his attention, though not quite in the same way.

Aya could see why he had done it. Not for the bedtalk, he would have been foolish to expect that from Aya, but for the trust it engendered with Kritiker. _Look, my lover is one of yours, am I not also one of yours? _

What Aya could not fathom was why Crawford continued the charade, even now. It was not that their times in bed were not pleasant, Aya had learned to his discomfort exactly how exceedingly pleasant they could be. But Crawford could have any number of people far more talented and willing than Aya was. He would have chalked it up to humiliating an enemy, but Crawford had never treated him as anything but an honored lover, strange as it was to see such behavior in such a person. The rest of Schwartz, er, what had formerly been Schwartz seemed to find it just as strange as Aya himself did. He often caught pained or queasy expressions on their faces when Crawford was speaking to him.

It wasn’t that Crawford was sentimental, far from it. Aya was convinced that Crawford’s interior was made of hard, cold steel, but his words were always respectful, tinged with a sort of ironic affection, as though he was constantly surprising himself. Aya supposed that it might be considered an achievement to have surprised a precognicient man, even if he wasn’t the one actively doing the surprising, but achievement with Crawford produced only a minimal sort of thrill, tinged as it was with the knowledge that it gained him nothing, no escape, no leverage, no power.

When Crawford first seduced him he had not known to look for the small signs of Crawford’s surprise, or perhaps they hadn’t surfaced until later. Then Aya had only been shocked, first by the proposition, and then by his own compliance. At first he suspiciously thought that Schuldig might be involved, but Schuldig had not smirked at Aya any more than he usually did, and Aya did not believe him capable of being _subtle. _He still doesn’t, though he has learned much about Schuldig since then.

It’s a melodramatic thing, taking over the world, and even Crawford could not manage to do it without attracting someone’s attention. That someone was not at first, Aya. He was too busy exploring the novelty of being in an actual relationship. What he liked about it, he decided, was not that he was involved with _Crawford_ per se, but that being involved with anyone, even Crawford, lent itself to a sort of domesticity. Not that Aya started baking cookies or wearing an apron (aside from that one, non-related to food incident), but it was nice to have someone to come home to, granted, Crawford was the sort of lover who was often gone, but it was the thought and expectation that counted. Their relationship may not have lasted; domesticity is a strong adhesive, but a poor conductor of emotion.

Then Crawford staged his coup, and the choice fell out of Aya’s hands.

It could be called a coup, though Crawford is really more of a Cardinal Richilieu than a Louis. Louis and Napoleon are out of style just now.

No one should have as much power as Crawford has, and if everyone knew that he had it then it would quickly be wrested from him. Only a handful of people know everything, and Aya is one of them.

He grits his teeth, he knows himself too well to believe that he’ll be able to lie, pretend to be Crawford’s devoted consort and ally, and then go out into the world to expose his lover as a tyrant.

If Aya gives his word to Crawford he will also be giving himself entire, and accepting Crawford unconditionally. But Aya has only ever accepted one person unconditionally. He cannot accept what he cannot understand, and understanding his precognicient, arrogant, sometimes frightening lover is much more difficult than understanding a beloved sister in a coma.

Aya cannot understand why Crawford has kept him, and so he cannot make a decision, and it is driving him insane.

There is a movement from behind a curtain, and Aya sees Crawford , the ever-so-slight curve to his lips saying that he is amused to find Aya woolgathering.

Aya is the sort of person who much prefers action to thought, but there has been a lot of time for thought here, and his volatile personality has had a chance to cool. Aya’s anger lies below the surface of his mind, and so his thoughts are unclouded by it, and watching Crawford’s hidden smile, he thinks that perhaps Crawford has discovered that he likes being domestic as well.


	4. Interludes

The Domestic Tyrant

Vlad the impaler had small children hunted like deer. Ghengis Khan had his opponents hands cut off, and Julius Caesar watched calmly as criminals were crucified.

Crawford is reading Aya a fairy tale.

_The lord of the kingdom of the sea had many daughters._

Aya thought of Omi, his bright smile and gentle spirit, the way he had flinched away from Aya after he discovered that he was a Takatori.

_One of his dayghters fell in love with a landsman and became rebellious. She broke the law of the seafolk and revealed herself to one who was of the land._

Aya thought of Yohji, with his flattering charm and outrageous fashion sense, not afraid to offend anyone.

_For her disobedience, she was turned to sea foam._

Aya thought of Ken, cheerful and angry in turn, fiercely loyal, and more stubborn than Aya himself.

_As the foam she remained forever a part of the sea, but occasionally washed up on the shore._

Crawford stopped speaking. He was looking at Aya strangely, intense enough that Aya had to ask, "Which one of us are you punishing?"

Crawford frowned, "I’m not punishing anyone."

"Then where are my teammates?"

Crawford said nothing.

Yohji

Yohji was running for his life, screaming bloody murder. He didn’t consider himself to be the type to do so, but then, he’d never been in exactly this sort of situation before.

It had started with a faint suspicion, nothing more complicated, but he was an assassin, and more importantly, an ex-detective, and he’d learned to take his suspicions and hunches seriously.

Aya was being a bit too complacent around Schwartz, and Schuldig’s smirk was a bit too knowing. Yohji began to do some quiet digging.

He found nothing, but that was no surprise, not when Crawford had a hacker of Naoe Nagi’s skill in his pocket.  The lack of information worried him. It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected Schwartz to cover their tracks, but it was troubling nonetheless.

Yohji liked to feel in charge of his surroundings. His charm and good looks gave him a natural edge over those that he did business with, and he was used to moving a step ahead of whatever game was being played. Working with Schwartz felt like being shoved from the kiddy pool into the deep end. He was flailing around for something to hold onto, and it was going to have to be Omi.

Aya was too close to Crawford, whose ever-knowing eyes made him nervous, and Crawford was too close to Schuldig, whom Yohji was assiduously avoiding. Ken had been out of the business for two months, and watching his easy smile as he played soccer with a group of school children, Yohji found that he did not have the heart to involve him.

So Omi it was.

But Omi was rarely alone these days. He was always in meetings or conferences, and when he wasn’t he was surrounded by a plethora of assistants and bodyguards, one of them Naoe, which brought thoughts of conspiracy to Yohji’s mind. He would have dismissed them, this was _Omi_ after all, but but for the fact that once in a while as he dogged Omi’s steps, trying to find a way to speak to him alone, he would spot a flash of red hair.

He did, eventually, succeed in speaking with Omi, which was what had landed him here, running through a darkened zoo, pursued by one crazed Irishman and at least three angry lions. He wasn’t sure which he should be more frightened of.

Omi

As he signed a new batch of orders Takatori Mamoru frowned.

There was something at the back of his mind that was bothering him, but he couldn’t pin down what exactly it was . . . something about Yohji.

As he tried to sort out the problem he automatically continued signing. He had a lot of responsibilities now, perhaps the vague feeling was just stress. Still, he couldn’t help but feel that there was something he was forgetting, something about Yohji, Yohji and Aya, yes, that was it.

He stood up, intending to check his files, make some phone calls, anything to make this nagging feeling he was having go _away._

And then Nagi was there, stalking into the room with his stoic expression, and his worry immediately evaporated away.  He hardly noticed Nagi’s companion.

Ken

Ken could not have been more startled when Yohji dropped in out of the blue, giving a rapid and somewhat confusing explanation about lions and conspiracies and one very garbled sentence about being molested by an orangatang.

He was obviously overtired, so Ken dosed him with Laudinum and put him in the guest bedroom.

He considered calling Omi, but ultimately decided against it. Let Yohji wake up tomorrow with a hangover strong enough to kill an ox, or with a more rational explanation for why he had appeared so unexpectedly, and covered in orange fluff.

The issue decided, Ken set the security system and went to bed.

 


	5. And Dark Our Apprehension Was, part one

Aya arched his hips lazily, head cushioned on his arms.  He was enjoying the long slide of flesh against flesh as Crawford moved within him. He was too spent to make any sirious attempt to rejoin the action, and his body was loose and limber in the afterglow.

Aya had been considering how best to press the issue of his teammates. Crawford was never off his guard, even directly after orgasm, and though Aya was not afraid of Crawford, he wished that he could speak to a more relaxed version of the man.

With a grunt, Crawford rolled off, and turned Aya to curve against his side. He breathed deeply and ran his hands through Aya’s hair, tugging as he liked to do. Aya narrowed his eyes, and Crawford sighed, removing his hands.

“I’m sorry, I know you don’t like that.”

“No, I don’t.” Aya turned his head away and tried to settle his words before he spoke. The trouble was that Crawford was not only adept at verbal games, and therefore hard to maneuver, but he also usually knew what Aya was going to do, which made manipulation difficult. Aya knew that in the arena of emotion and desire he could triumph, but he disliked using himself in such a way.

His thoughts were interrupted by Crawford: “Stop sulking.”

Aya said, “I’m not sulking,” but he smiled a little as he said it, and turned his head back.

Crawford observed him silently for a minute, then pulled him tighter, saying, “What do you want?”

“Are you offering me half your kingdom?”

“I want to know what’s making you unhappy.”

“You know what’s making me unhappy,” and though Aya was referring to his teammates, Crawford probably knew about the other as well.”

Crawford shifted uneasily, “As to that…”

“You could at least tell me what’s happened to them.”

“You’ll see them tomorrow.”

“Because you’ll bring them?”

“Because I’ve seen it, but Aya….I don’t entirely understand what it is I have seen.”


	6. And Dark Our Apprehension Was, part two

Yohji moved uneasily down the corridor.

When they had planned this it had seemed like a good idea. Now, faced with the reality of what lay ahead of him he was not so sure.

Abruptly a red-haired figure appeared before him, and any hesitation he might have had became moot.

“Ikkle kitty has lost its way.”

Schuldig was leering at him, and as Yohji raised his wire he felt his hands go slack.

“Let’s take a look at what’s going on in that fluffy little brain of yours…..hmmm. How interesting. You’re planning on distracting me while little Siberian rescues Aya. How sweet of you to surrender one of your lives to save him, grube katze. But how are you planning on distracting me?”

“Like this,” said Yohji, and stepping forward he kissed Schuldig full on the lips.

Schuldig pulled away after a moment, laughing breathlessly, “You’re good, very good. It’s a good thing Crawford warned me to let you kitties through, or I might be in real danger of being distracted.”

“But, if you’re supposed to let me through then I didn’t need to—“

Yohji was already moving forward when Schuldig grabbed his wrist and pressed him against the wall. “Oh, no kitty, a kiss is a promise.”


	7. More Interludes

Schuldig 

Kudou’s thoughts were in a jumble, so confused that Schuldig could have laughed, were he not too busy mouthing his way up the man’s neck. Verdammt! The kitten tasted good, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his hands, pinned by Schuldig’s to the wall, fisting and clenching the air. Oh, he wanted, even without the special insight that Schuldig had into the man’s fevered mind it would have been obvious. He wanted, but at the same time his thoughts were scrambling ahead to where his teammates were to meet, and he wanted to be with them, to have his life return to normal, to forget that he’d ever met the telepath.

_I can make you, _whispered Schuldig to the other’s mind, _if that’s what you really want._

“What?” Kudou opened his eyes.

Make you forget. Is that what you really want? To live a normal life, never see your little friends again…

“Why—“

It’s a package deal, you see. I come with Brad, and Brad comes with Aya.

Kudou was straining away from the lips on his neck now, thoughts completely focused on his friends.

“Aya—“

“Is just fine, and will be waiting for us when we finish.” Schuldig enjoyed the way the kitten’s skin moved against his words as he spoke them against a shuddering cheek.

“Finish what?”

“You never gave me your answer,” he stepped back so that their hips were no longer in contact, watching Kudou’s eyes, not releasing his wrists, “do you want to forget?”

“No.” Kudou tugged at his wrists. “Let me go, I have to go in there.”

“Not just yet.” Schuldig reached into the man’s mind, below the level of thought, found the natural desire, a spark of white flame. He luxuriated in its heat, slipped closer, and gave it a faint nudge—

\--And the kitten _melted_. His eyes closed and he slid against the wall, as if he was boneless. If not for the grip Schuldig had on his wrists he would have fallen to the ground.

Schuldig was so busy keeping the man upright that he missed Kudou’s eyes open, the strength returning to limbs. And then he was no longer pinning the other with his own weight, but staggering backwards with a wildcat snarling into his neck, curved hands clawing against his back and sides. And Schuldig’s control _splintered._

Kudou paused, pulling his head back, and the expression on his face was uncertain and startled. Schuldig reached for his control, but as he did so Kudou’s face turned hungry.

The next moment Schuldig found himself in precisely the same position that he’d held the kitten in a few minutes ago. Giving up control as a lost cause, he barred his throat to a hungry mouth and prepared to take the consequences for his actions.

There was a step behind them.

Farfarello

Farfarello moved with the grace that only a truly dangerous creature can achieve. He did it effortlessly. He approached his target, raised his knife—

\--and Schuldig jerked his head up, snapping in irritation. “For Gott’s sake Farfie!”

Farfarello’s eyes narrowed. If Schuldig believed that he could deterr his teammate from this mission, then he was sorely mistaken.

Schuldig seemed to recognize his mistake immediately, shoving at the creature clinging to his neck, “Farfie, no—“

But the temptation to marr the golden skin of one of God’s creatures was too much, and Farfarello brought his knife slashing down. At the last moment a burst of pain flared into his brain, and he brought his hand up to his head, grunting, almost stabbing himself before he remembered to drop the knife.

Through the pounding he heard Schuldig’s mocking voice in front of him. “You see? You can’t touch what is _mine._”

“Yours?”

“Yes, mine, not God’s, so you can keep your knives out of him, Oh! He ended with a sharp gasp as the creature did something to him, and Farfarello felt the pain in his head recide as Schuldig’s control slipped. He moved forward carefully, listening to the happy noises that Schuldig made, and put his hand on the creature’s neck, not pressing, just resting lightly. The creature—_Kudou_, a voice in his mind snarled impatiently—stiffened, and broke off from sucking on Schuldig’s chest.

Schuldig sighed and cupped the its face in his hands, “Look at me Kudou, and you,” here he glared at Farfarello, “behave.”

“I don’t—“ Kudou’s voice was interrupted with a hiss as Schuldig did something outside of Farfarello’s vision

One clench and he could break its neck, but if it truly was Schuldig’s creature then he would be punished for doing so, and if it wasn’t then it would shortly be corrupted. It would be pleasant to watch.

When Schuldig pushed it to its knees Farfarello helped.

Nagi

Nagi was changing an interface when Mamoru doubled over.

He immediately shut his program down and hurried over, feeling along the lines of his power. Mamoru was important enough to their endeavor that Crawford would severely punish him if the man died while in his charge.

It appeared that his rescue attempts would be unnecessary though, because Mamoru was straightening up, and his eyes were clear, clearer than they should be. He stalked forward, his eyes confused and more than a little angry.

“Naoi…what’s going on?”

Nagi sighed. This had happened once before, and dealing with the fallout hadn’t been pleasant, he didn’t expect it to be any better this time, but he had to have something to do while he waited for Schuldig to show up and fix his mistake. “Sit down.”

“No! Naoi, I need an expl—“ His fall onto the couch that suddenly moved behind him broke his words off explosively and made him grunt in surprise. He forbore from speaking again, merely glaring at Nagi, who was seating himself in a comfortable armchair.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

That was interesting enough to Mamoru that he responded, cautiously leaning forward in the expectation that he would find himself unable to move from his seat. When he found himself free he relaxed. “I was working on the Hamano case. You were familiarizing yourself with the building.”

Nagi snorted. “Mamoru, how long have I been working for you?”

“Approximately four hours, and don’t call me that.”

Nagi ignored him. “I’ve been working for you—well, actually for Crawford, since you’ve been out of it—for four months.”

“Four months!” His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, ‘out of it’?”

“What do you think it means?”

“I think that it means that your telepath has been messing with my mind.”

“He has,” Nagi acknowledged, “but he’s not my telepath, he’s Crawford’s.”

Mamoru was plainly very angry now, clenching his nails into the leather of the couch, though he was wise enough not to move against a telekinetic. “And what,” his voice was very controlled, “was the purpose of this…” he groped for a word, “manipulation?”

Nagi shrugged. “Pretty much what you’d expect, power, control, world domination, with the extra bonus of having a hostage if he ever needed it.”

“Hostage for whom?”

Nagi’s lip curled. “For Fujimiya, not that he needs it.”

“Why wouldn’t he need it, what have you done with Aya?” The anger in Mamoru’s voice settled into the empty corners of the room, lurking like shadows, Nagi moved uneasily. Despite knowing that Mamoru held no power over him, the man unnerved him. He had thought, over the past few months, that it was just the flat mask that he wore habitually since Schuldig had gotten to him, but now it was becoming apparent that there was some other cause, some power that couldn’t be measured or controlled. The very air reverberated with it. It was entirely too much like being in Crawford’s presence.

He coughed, his uneasiness abating for a moment with his response. “I—um—haven’t done anything with Fujimiya, and what Crawford’s doing with him isn’t anything that he doesn’t want.”

“This incensed Mamoru, who started up for a moment before remembering who he was about to attack. He settled back on the couch, fingers drumming angrily. “I want to see him.”

“That won’t be possible,” but even as he was saying it his phone rang, and a moment later he turned to Mamoru with an unreadable expression. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“You wanted to see Fujimiya, didn’t you?” And that was all it took.


	8. The Understanding of Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A snippet from 'The Darkness Series' that I originally cut. I thought that I'd post it while I write the final part of the series. Note that this is out of order.

Aya was moving through a practice move, for once at peace with himself.  He almost felt happy here, doing what he understood, and he was—

Being watched.

“You could be using that on actual targets.”

Aya felt his temper begin to rise and shoved it down. He said calmly, “I’m not going to kill for you, Crawford.”

“It’s Bradley.”

Aya fell out of his rhythm, shocked.

“What?”

“Bradley.”

Crawford’s eyes were strangely warm, and there was a playful smile on his face.

“I think that we’re on close enough terms”—here Aya snorted—“to call each other by our first names.”

“You’ve been calling me by my first name since you met me.”

“No, actually only since I seduced you.”

“How lovely.”

“It’s not”—Crawford hesitated—“if you don’t want to…”

And the tension in Aya melted away. “No, I think,” he swung his sword in an arc, bringing him closer, then dropped it and stepped into the other man’s personal space, “I think,” he whispered against Crawford’s lips, “that I might like it, Brad.”

At that, Brad’s hands, which had been carefully still, moved forward, crushing them together, and his lips moved urgently against Aya’s, mawling.

Aya broke away, laughing and picked up his katana. “Not until I’m done with my practice.”

Brad let out a frustrated growl, “Damn.”

Aya tried to move back into his rhythm, acutely aware of Brad’s hungry eyes following his every move. He turned away, beginning to loosen up, turned back—and nearly decapitated himself.

Brad had unbuttoned his trousers and was in the process of taking care of the little problem that Aya had earlier felt. His mouth was slightly open, lips wet. His hand moved steadily, and his hooded eyes were intense.

Aya swallowed, hard, and dropped his sword for the second time that day.

Later, when he came up for air, he said, “I’m still not going to kill for you.”


	9. How It Ends

Ken jogged along the cooridor, his footsteps light as a dancer’s. The guards were taken care of, and if Yohji was doing his job correctly—here Ken couldn’t help an instinctive shudder—then he shouldn’t be interrupted. Still, there was always the possiblity.

He rounded a corner, and ahead of him, were two broad doors, one of them held open with a large potted plant. There were voices coming through the door, and Ken paused to listen.

A quiet voice, Aya’s. Ken’s heart leapt.

“I can’t make the choice that you want me to make.”

Crawford’s voice next, moving like silk, but hard and dangerous, lacking the scorn and smugness that Ken remembered.

“Aya, you weren’t anything that I expected—no, let me say this.

“I thought that I’d have to fight you, subdue you. I was looking forward to it. I thought that I’d have to wear down your brilliant edge until you couldn’t fight any more. I expected to get cut the first time I touched you, but you melted like honey under my hands.

“I desperately wanted to remold you in those moments, but I’d come to crave the edge, and I was afraid of dulling the blade, should I use such a bright, bold weapon on anything but myself.”

“You know, despite the fact that I’m a swordsman, I don’t especially like being compared to a sword, and I don’t know why you’re telling me this.”

“Because when you make your decision, I’m afraid that I’ll lose you, one way or another, and I don’t know which way is worse. I’ve tried to be careful with you, Aya. I don’t want to have to watch you destroy yourself.”

“You’ve already seen what my decision will be.”

“Yes, but I don’t know why you’ll decide the way you will, and I don’t know where we’ll be in five years, in twenty.”

There was a snort. “You’re worried about not knowing what will happen twenty years in the future? I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next twenty minutes!”

“Which is why you have me.”

There was a short, choked laugh. “I have you? I was under the impression that it was the other way around.”

A low, smoky voice, “How lucky for me. Come here Aya.”

“Are you asking me for my decision?”

“I’m asking for you.”

_Very _quietly, “You already have me.”

“Do I?”

There was the sound of footsteps, and then of kissing, and Ken, realizing what was happening, screwed up his face and cleared his throat.

Crawford heard a sound and knew that his time had run out. Whether what he had said had been enough to sway Aya was debatable, but the man wasn’t retreating from his arms, despite his teammate’s entrance.

“Aya,” Hidaka breathed with shock and a measure of revulsion, “what are you doing?”

Aya shivered against him, but didn’t take his eyes off of Hidaka.

“I’m not betraying the team,” he said with a steady voice.

Hidaka was fairly vibrating with energy but he took a breath and unclenched his fists before speaking. Crawford watched with interest.  There were hidden depths to this one, he should have known better than to write him off as useless, perhaps—

“Aya, you’re my teammate and I care about you. I want to understand your actions, and I don’t want to condemn you, so please explain to me how this is not a betrayal?” He raised his hand to fend off Aya’s response, and added, “Have you considered that you may be being manipulated, and not just by the German?”

Definitely more to Hidaka than met the eye, and at another time Crawford would be upset at the threat to the fragile relationship that he had built with Aya. But if that relationship was never threatened then it would never become stronger, and the question was just. If Aya had been recalcitrant then Crawford would have used stronger measures to secure his affections, but as the situation stood he knew himself almost entirely innocent on that count. It was a strange sort of knowledge for him to have.

Aya was moving from his side. His instinctive response was to grab him and pull him back.

He did nothing.

Aya stopped a few feet short of Hidaka and said,

“I’m not sure how to convince you of this, Ken, but I’m not being manipulated. Schuldig has nothing to do with my relationship with Crawford.”

Crawford winced. Up until a few minutes ago Aya had been calling him Bradley, but it was easy to backslide into old habits. Or perhaps Aya simply didn’t want to shock his teammate any more than necessary. Crawford himself had never had such inhibitions. It would have been difficult to keep them with Schuldig on the team. And thinking of Schuldig—

_Nice that you’re thinking of me Mächtiger Leiter._

Even in his mind Schuldig had a nasal tone, which was annoying, but Crawford had long since resigned himself to it.

‘Where are you,’ he thought with impatience. ‘You were supposed to have Kudou here five minutes ago, and if you don’t get him here soon the whole thing might fall apart.’

_Hidaka getting the best of you?_

He couldn’t wipe the smirk off of Schuldig’s face from here, but once he arrived…

_Oh, relax, don’t be so verklemmt. We’ll be there in a minute. You wouldn’t begrudge me two minutes of Koudu’s mouth, would you?_

Crawford allowed his disgust over Schuldig’s lechery to cloud his mind for a moment, then, satisfied that the message had been made clear, turned his attention back to the confrontation in front of him.

“—think he was doing? Didn’t you ever wonder what had become of us? Why Omi didn’t call you anymore?”

“Of course I did,” Aya snapped back, his temper unwisely getting the best of him, “but I could hardly make subtle inquiries while surrounded by Schwartz! I haven’t been allowed out of this house for months, what was I supposed to do?”

That made Crawford wince for more than one reason. If anything more was needed to convince Hidaka that Aya’s involvement with him was not entirely consensual, this was it. Nevermind that leaving the house had been the only thing that hadn’t been allowed, and that only because while Aya was firmly attached to Crawford, ultimately his loyalty was to his team, or it had been.

It was enough to make Crawford reach for his link to Schuldig to correct the problem, but at that moment the south doors burst open and Takatori Mamoru strode into the room, followed by Nagi, who cast a wary look at the tableau before him.

Mamoru’s eyes went immediately to Aya, who stepped back from Hidaka, silent.

“Aya, are you alright?”

“Yes, Omi.”

Mamoru did not bother to correct him, but wheeled on Crawford in fury.

“How dare you do this?”

“And what is it that I have done?” Crawford voice was sardonic. He needed to avoid antagonizing Mamoru, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t enjoy their wordgames.

“I’m sure that I don’t know all of it, but you’ve been manipulating me for months—“

Crawford shot a look at Nagi, who shrugged apologetically.

“—and there’s obviously something wrong with Aya.”

Now _that_ was unexpected. Crawford looked at Aya, who had the same puzzlement on his face that Crawford was feeling. There wasn’t anything visually different about Aya that he could see—

_That’s because you’ve been with him the whole time he was changing._

“What?” He spoken aloud in response to Schuldig, but it was Mamoru who opened his mouth to answer—

\--except that he didn’t because a flushed Koudu appeared in the doorway, Schuldig and Farfarello flanking him. Kudou looked understandably rumpled, as did Schuldig, but unexpectedly, so did Farfarello.

Crawford had given serious thought to sending Farfarello away for the day to avoid the difficulties his presence was likely to cause, but today Weiss was a team, and for Schwartz to face them as anything other than another team, whole and entire, would be wrong.

There was silence for a moment and then three voices began at once, Yohji’s accusing, Hidaka’s questioning, and Mamoru’s authoritative. The resulting caphony only lasted a few seconds before Aya gave a snarl.

The room got quiet very quickly.

Crawford was both proud of his lover, so obviously ruler of his domain, and at the same time inconveniently turned on. He tugged at his pants discreetly.

“I know you have questions,” said Aya, his voice low and controlled, “and I intend to answer all of them, but right now we need to deferr to our team leader.” He turned to Mamoru.

Mamoru drew himself up and put his hands behind his back, obviously preparing himself for an interrogation. Aya’s statement had not only silenced Kudou and Hidaka, but also reminded Mamoru that as the leader of his team, he needed to retain his professionalism.

He addressed himself to Crawford, his voice level, but cold.

“Have you anything to say for yourself?”

Actually Crawford had a lot to say, and how he said it would influence how this situation played out. He took a deep breath and plunged in.

“I have a proposition for you—wait,” he raised his hand to forestall Mamoru’s automatic response. “Explanations about the activities of the past several months will be included.”

All four members of Weiss perked up at that. Even Aya didn’t know what was coming next. From the doorway Schuldig smirked.

Crawford ignored him and chose his words carefully.

“I have known since before Estett fell that without their protection my team would be at the mercy of several powerful organizations across the world. Spy rings, criminal organizations, governments.” He paused a moment to let that sink in, then went on.

“Schwartz is powerful, but we would not be the only talents left, and many of the others would gladly work to see us destroyed.” He paced the room, a restless energy filling him. He was finally at liberty to unveil his plan to someone other than his teammates.

“There were only a few options open to us. We could hide, but were unwilling to, and even if we had been willing it would have been unlikely to be successful. We could ally ourselves with some powerful group that could protect us, but first, what group would be willing to do so, and secondly, would we be willing to resign ourselves to service yet again, having so recently escaped it?”

Mamoru found his voice.

“And so you chose a third option, choosing to control that group?”

“Yes, but not as you think.” He paused, then continued. “With Schuldig’s influence we could disguise the fact that we were in danger, but it wasn’t a perfect solution. I didn’t want us to be tied to an organization forever, either as its servants or its masters.

“But as its temporary masters we could influence greater circles of power, plant suggestions in the minds of the powerful, not to change the world, but to preserve ourselves.

“It isn’t a perfect solution, but most of the obvious threats, at least the ones that I have seen, have been dealt with, and in a non-violent way. I should think that you would be pleased.”

“Pleased?” Mamoru was shaking. “You’ve been controlling Kritker all this time, using it like your own personal baita, and you expect me to be pleased?” His voice rose to a high pitch at the end of the sentence.

Crawford shook his head. “Haven’t you been listening? I didn’t need to control Kritker, I only needed to control you, only needed your contacts, and now I have them, now I don’t need you, or Kritker, any more.”

He stopped in front of Mamoru. “So, I suppose this is my, our, resignation.” He moved on again. “We are no longer your servants, or employees, we never really were, but we would like to keep Kritker as a contact, to face each other as equals, but not equal enemies. That is why we’re having this discussion now. I could have simply had Schuldig alter your memories so that you forgot all about us.”

“No you couldn’t,” said Hidaka unexpectedly, “not unless you were willing to lose Aya.”

“I may lose him yet,” said Crawford, his eyes on Aya, but Aya would not look back.

“What?” Kudou sounded a little dazed. Mamoru’s lips tightened to a thin line. Schuldig was grinning drunkenly, the tension in the room merely feeding his desire for emotional conflict.

_And what about your emotional conflict, Braddy?_

‘Shut up, and don’t call me that.’

Abruptly a new voice entered their link timidly,

_You shouldn’t have said that, you’ll only push him away._

‘What do you know?’ It made Crawford unaccountably angry that his team would debate with him about _his _lover, but he couldn’t ignore them, and Nagi might be right.

_I only know what I see._

‘Great, I have everyone’s opinions but Farfarello’s, care to join the rabble?’

Farfarello’s mental voice was unexpectedly placid.

_I have no need to be involved, your Céadsearc will return to you--_

‘Finally, someone on my side,’

_\--or he will not, _finished Farfarello.

Crawford wilted.

And then Aya was turning to him, face solemn.

“You’ve manipulated my friends and,” here he hesitated, then added firmly, “and myself, to get what you wanted. For myself I can forgive you, but I can’t forgive what you’ve done to them, recently, or in the past.”

Crawford knew that he would have one chance here.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me, to forgive us, just to accept us. Accept that _you _don’t have to revenge all wrongs, accept that none of us are exactly the same people that we were two years ago, you least of all, accept that we’re not normal, that we do things differently, that we don’t fit in. Accept that I’d never hurt you, and accept,” here his voice dropped very low and he moved towards Aya, “accept that I’m letting you go.”

Aya blinked, repeatedly. He opened his mouth, then closed it, cleared his throat and said,

“I can’t make that decision. I have to deferr to my team leader.”

Mamoru was obviously having difficulty speaking, but he pulled himself together.

“Crawford, a group like Schwartz gaining power over world leaders is exactly the kind of thing that Kritker was designed to prevent. Even if I were to forgive you for the liberties you have taken with my organization, I can’t let that slip by.”

Schuldig snickered, and when Crawford looked at him questioningly he sent Mamoru’s current thoughts.

_Kritker won’t be your lapdog, and Aya won’t either._

As humorous as this was, Crawford ignored it. Aya had deferred to Mamoru, he must convince Mamoru.

“I acted for the protection of my team, I’m responsible for them, just as you feel responsible for your people. The power that I’ve gained is a failsafe to prevent our destruction. We were almost destroyed once, that will never happen again.”

He let that hang in the air, then added, almost casually,

“Besides, you can’t stop us now. The best way for you to ensure that we never use our power to take over the world--” to his right Schuldig is having a fit, everyone’s thoughts must be very entertaining, “—is to maintain as close a contact as is possible.”

At that Yohji coughed awkwardly, and Mamoru stared at him shrewdly.

Hidaka was the first to speak,

“Regardless of what you’ve done to us, Schwartz’ activities are exactly the sorts of things that Kritker is supposed to prevent. You kill innocent people. Nevermind anything else, we should be trying to kill you for that alone.”

Schuldig snorted, and Crawford let the sound settle before he spoke.

“Taken a look in the mirror lately, Siberian? Are you naïve enough to think that all of _your _victims aren’t innocent?”

Hidaka looked uncomfortable, but he said steadily,

“Kritker only targets the guilty.”

Crawford willed away the sneer he felt developing. It would not do to destroy everything he had worked for because he couldn’t control his attitude. He sent a stern mental message to Schuldig, although he knew that it wouldn’t work. It didn’t matter, no one was watching Schuldig.

“Oh really? In that case, Mamoru, why don’t you tell them about the Silva raid, six months ago.”

Hidaka went pale, and turned to Mamoru in mute appeal.

Mamoru wore a grim expression, and he kept his eyes on Crawford as he said,

“We’ll talk about this later.”

“Omi—“

Mamoru cut him off sharply,

“I said we’ll talk about it later, and it’s not ‘Omi’ anymore, it’s ‘Mamoru.’” He glared around the room indiscriminately, then sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as though he had a headache.

“I’m sorry.” He turned to Aya. “Aya, what do _you_ think we should do?”

Aya had closed his eyes at the earlier outburst, but now opened them.

“Accept,” he said evenly.

“Accept!” Hidaka’s eye was twitching.”

“Yes,” Aya said firmly, then more quietly, “it’s the only way, Ken.”

Kudou moved uneasily, cleared his throat and said,

“I never would have pegged you as a pragmatist, Aya.”

“People change,” said Aya simply.

There was a long silence before Mamoru said abruptly,

“All right. Ken, are you willing to accept this?”

“I suppose so.”

“Yohji?”

Schuldig had been murmuring something and Kudou’s eyes were a bit glazed over. At the sound of Mamoru’s voice he shook himself, flushing bright red, and shot a glare at Schuldig.

“Yes, yes,” he said somewhat hurriedly.

Mamoru turned to Crawford.

“In that case, I suppose we have an agreement, though I’m sure that you saw it coming, didn’t you?” His voice was weary.

“Actually, not all of it.” Crawford put his arm around Aya, who was finally beginning to relax.

A flurry of sound made him look to Schuldig, who was being dragged away by Yohji on one arm and Farfarello on the other. He didn’t look too unhappy about it. Crawford turned back to Aya.

“What do you want to do now?”

“You mean now that I can leave the house?”

Crawford felt the urge to wince, but Aya was smiling. He tentatively smiled back.

“Yes, we can do anything, go anywhere, so I repeat, what do you want to do?”

“I think,” Aya paused for a moment, then continued, “I think that I want to visit my sister.”

Crawford felt a flash of disappointment, but stiffled it quickly. It made sense that Aya would want to reconnect with his roots. Unfortunately Crawford had no place there.

“Of course.”

Aya must have read something on his face, because he said firmly,

“I meant that I want _us _to visit my sister, Brad.”

Crawford had a momentary vision and paled. Maybe it would be better if Aya went alone, but before he could say this Aya said,

“I think that you’ll like each other, at least, you’re a lot alike.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s a lot scarier than I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Quote from The Usual Suspects.


End file.
